


Let Them Both Out

by belovedhell (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring, Child Abuse, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, Killing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Self-Defense, Self-Esteem Issues, Shy Dean, Teasing, Threats, Vampire Sam Winchester, Violence, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/belovedhell
Summary: Sam had been kidnapped and held captive by a hunter. Weak from not having any blood, and also because he was injured, Sam had no choice but to stay put until he healed. While being captive, he met a young boy who followed the hunter's orders by feeding the monsters in the cages. Was there more to the boy, or was he also planning on killing Sam?





	Let Them Both Out

**Author's Note:**

> Thank Mystifiedgal for letting me upload this fic here! It was up to her and she decided to share it with others. I was going to delete it. Anyways, I liked that Dean was shy and timid, yet pouty and huffy when Sam teased him about his age. I don't even remember how I came up with this. Minor errors around btw. My bad.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are lovely and appreciated.

Fast footsteps were heard through the forest, then the sound of rustling trees in the air. It was a dark night, and the moon was full, casting dim yellow light across the sky.

Someone was jumping, inhuman, from one tree to the next, trying to avoid the hunter that was chasing him. Sam was weak from his previous fight with the hunter, who had managed to stab him in his heart with a silver dagger— and while it didn't do any damage— he did lose a good amount of blood, thereby prompting Sam to escape before he could be killed.

It was hard to smell him. The hunter had most likely sprayed ashes on himself so Sam couldn't detect him.

As Sam jumped down the ground, he hid behind a massive tree, hoping not to be captured. He bit his lips so he wouldn't breathe loudly. There was no noise for a second, making Sam believe that the hunter must have left to another direction.

Slowly, he peeked over the bark— The last thing he saw was a machete heading his way, then everything going black.

* * *

 

Sam's eyes fluttered open, a groan escaped his lips as he tried to sit up. He shot a glance over his shoulder. Sam winced when he saw his hoodie covered in fresh blood, and he gently ripped the hoodie to get a good look on his wound. There was a huge gash across his whole shoulder.

Ouch.

At least he wasn't dead.

He tried not to focus on his injury— because it would take awhile to heal— instead he looked around at his surroundings.

"Where am I?" He wondered aloud. He was in an iron cage. The only thing Sam could see was a light bulb flickering from across the room. The walls were made out of concrete bricks and the ceiling had chains and bear traps dangling around. Was this a basement or a dungeon... or a torture room? Either way, he was stuck in there until he could get his strength back.

Abruptly, Sam withdrew his fangs when he hear hissing nearby him. There were more monsters trapped in cages. Just like him. What kind of hunter did Sam stumble to?

Three hours had passed, and Sam was getting very thirsty. He kept licking his lips every ten minutes to hydrate them. Good thing the creatures beside him had stopped doing movements.

Just as Sam was about to drift off to sleep he heard someone coming down the stairs. It was a kid carrying a bucket of bloody limbs. He appeared to have been struggling holding the damn thing.

Sam peered at the young boy, Dean, who was feeding the monsters outside of their cages. He threw animal— deer from what Sam could smell— limbs towards the ghoul and werewolf.

Hissing and growling echoed throughout the basement as the monsters attacked their meal.

Dean seemed disgusted, watching the limbs easily ripped apart by their mouths. He shook his head and made his way towards Sam's cage.

Sam rushed to the back corner, snarling at the boy, who gulped and took out a pint size blood bag from his pocket.

Blood… It smelled so good in Sam's nostrils. How long had it been since he had it? He was captured last night, so probably since then.

As Dean threw the bag, Sam eagerly snatched it from the ground and ripped it with his teeth. He gulped the thick blood down, but something burned in his throat as he swallowed it. Sam coughed and cried, spitting out the remaining blood from his mouth. His lips were stained bright red and his chest was heaving erratically.

He had this familiar experience before… when he came across _dead man's blood._

The boy took a hasty step back when Sam glared deadly at him. His lips trembled, small little whimpers could be heard, at the sight of Sam's red glowing eyes. Dean tumbled down on his ass, accidentally tripping himself with his feet, then he quickly crawled backwards, while staring at Sam in fear.

Sam watched him as scurried up the stairs, never to be seen again... until the following morning for another feeding.

* * *

 

Three days passed by like nothing, much to Sam's dismay. His wound was beginning to seal itself, but he still needed more time before he could get out of his prison cell.

The hunter never made an appearance— Thank god for that. Sam didn't want to die just yet.

Although, he kept seeing Dean who was feeding him poison. There was something about him that was drawing Sam in; even though he was terrified to be around monsters, he still fed them, making sure they ate all their food. Like he cared for them.

It puzzled Sam to no end.

When one week went by, Sam took action to attack Dean once he got his full strength back. He lunged towards the boy, knocking him down. Dean thrashed underneath him, gasping for air when Sam's hands wrapped around his small throat. Sam gritted his teeth and leaned down towards Dean's face.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you!" Sam hissed, claws digging into Dean's neck.

Dean cried, writhing around, "Please! I-I didn't mean to! I was just following orders from my dad!" He sobbed underneath Sam, like a five year old. Sam could feel his hands shaking and his heart pulsing in fear. Dean was telling the truth.

Sam let go of him, prompting Dean to properly breathe and cover his neck. Sam made no attempt to move, instead he observed Dean. Wondering. "You're innocent..." Sam didn't question, but stated.

Dean nodded with tears running down his face.

"What's your name?" Sam demanded.

"D-Dean Winchester," Dean stuttered.

Just as Sam was about to say something, he heard a door slam from above the stairs, then a roar, "Dean!" Sam saw Dean tensing below him, and to his surprise, his heartbeat was off the roof. Dean was more scared of his father than Sam.

Sam made Dean the gesture to talk so the hunter wouldn't come downstairs.

"Y-Yes, Sir?"

"Hurry up and finish down there! I have a job for you," his dad growled.

"Yes Sir." Dean relaxed when the door shut. He let out a sigh of relief before squeaking as he remembered that Sam wanted to kill him moments ago.

"Calm down, Dean. I'm not going to hurt you," Sam said, finally climbing to his feet.

"You're not?" Dean seemed confused. Weren't all monsters evil? That's what his dad told him.

"No. You're just a young boy." As much as Sam wanted to escape, something was preventing him from doing so... knowing that Dean would pay the price for his escape. Sam would rather go through hell than see a boy suffer because of him.

"Not that young," he muttered, pouting.

Sam's lips quirked up, then said, "I'm Sam."

"Sam," Dean breathed, saying the name slowly.

"Go to your dad before he comes down." Dean's eyes widened, debating if Sam was tricking him of some sort. "No trick," Sam added, almost like he was reading Dean's mind. "I just don't want you to get in trouble."

"Can I put you back in the cage?" Dean pleaded. "If my dad sees you... he'll kill you. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Why? I could've killed you," Sam said with a frown.

"It would've been better if you did." Dean turned around and left Sam more puzzled than ever.

Nevertheless, he put himself back in the cage. Sam couldn't help but be worry for Dean.

* * *

 

Dean entered the basement, doing the same routine: feeding the creatures. There was no talking about their previous conversation, in fact, Dean was ignoring him. Sam squinted as he saw Dean's walking closer, close enough to see an enormous bruise near his eye. It was fresh because Dean didn't have it yesterday night.

Somebody hurt him.

"Where did you get that shiner, Dean?" Sam questioned, even though he knew deep down who it was.

Dean tensed, then went back to throwing limbs into the cages, ignoring Sam once again. Sam could hear his heart beat beginning to speed up.

"Did your dad do that to you?"

Faster heart beats was his only response, and it was more than enough for Sam.

"You really hate doing this, don't you?" Sam wouldn't stop talking until Dean said something, anything to start a conversation again. "You don't have to do this. You can leave and make your own life."

Nothing.

"How old are you anyway, twelve?" Sam randomly asked. He remembered Dean getting annoyed when being called _young_ _boy_.

That got Dean to glare at him, then he gritted his teeth as he said, "I'm not twelve. I'm fourteen."

Sam must have guessed that people would tell him that he looked younger than how he actually was. It hit a nerve. Interesting.

"Really? Because you do look like a _kid_ ," Sam replied, egging him on by smirking.

Dean snarled and marched to his cage. "In six months I'll turn fifteen! Besides, how old are you, Sam? A thousand years old!" he reflected.

Sam snorted. "I'm not that old, Dean. I'm around four hundred. Give or take." He shrugged, then his face shifted into solemn. "But seriously? Who hurt you?" his voice was soft and caring, prompting Dean to turn away in shame. Sam hated it but he wanted Dean to tell him from his own words.

"You said it already," Dean whispered, which Sam heard loudly with his hearing.

"Why?" he asked, grasping onto the cage. He needed to hold onto something otherwise Sam would do something he'd regret.

Dean lifted his head to stare into Sam's eyes. "Because I told my dad to let you go... That you're not like the others." He shook his head and reached for his pocket to pull out the blood packet.

Dean didn't throw it just yet, he simply gazed at it as he continued talking, "I said you were less of a monster. Look where that got me." Slowly, Dean touched his face with his fingers, wincing when they made contact with his injury.

"He shouldn't have done that to you," Sam stated.

"Doesn't matter. He's my dad—"

"No dad is supposed to hit their kids!"

"Well, mine does!" Dean snapped, and for the first time Sam saw that he was truly angry. But at who?

"Can I touch it?" Sam pleaded. "I won't hurt you," he rushed out when Dean was about to protest.

Dean didn't move for a moment, debating if he should do as Sam said— he almost killed him last time— but when he saw Sam's earnest expression. Dean knew he wasn't going to hurt him.

Taking a step forward, Dean closed his eyes as he felt Sam's hand caressing his cheek. His thumb moving upwards and making circular motions, as if Sam was soothing Dean's skin.

When Dean opened his eyes, he could see Sam standing in front of him, out of the cage and both eye to eye. Before Dean could get away, Sam held him in place so he wouldn't move any further. Many thoughts were filtering in Dean's mind: _What was I thinking? Why did I trust him? Am I going to die?_

He was expecting death, not gentle lips pressing onto his bruise.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. It was his first time someone was giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Sam pulled away and avoided looking at Dean. "You should go. And don't tell your dad nonsense anymore." Dean snapped back to reality, frowning on Sam's words, and then nodded. He placed the blood bag on the ground and left to the stairs.

As Dean reached up, he touched his injury one last time, not because it hurt, but because Sam kissed him. Dean made a soft smile as he exited the basement.

Sam punched the wall, anger coursing through his veins knowing that his abductor was hurting his own son. For the first time, Sam wanted to kill a human in cold blood.

* * *

 

Sam was awakened by a familiar scream, echoing from the whole house. It was Dean. Sam hurried towards the stairs and broke the locked door. He was finally seeing above the house for the first time.

The first thing his eyes landed on was Dean, who was bloody and crying on the floor. He was on his knees and holding a knife with his shaky fingers. And right next to Dean was the hunter who captured Sam. Dead.

Dean snapped his head to Sam, then cried, "I-I didn't mean to! B-But he was going to kill you. I tried to stop him but he just slapped me. I didn't want you to die, Sam."

Sam saw Dean's reddened cheek, slowly swelling up; and all Sam wanted to do was kiss it better. "It's okay, Dean. You did nothing wrong. It was self-defense."

Dean shook his head. "I always wanted him dead. I hated what he was doing with the creatures... and what he was doing to me. Does that make me a monster?" he asked, voice cracked.

"No. You're not the monster. He was," Sam said firmly. "You wanted him to stop hurting others. You're the good guy, Dean." He knelt down beside Dean, cupping his cheeks and said, "You didn't choose this life. It was forced to you."

Dean nodded, too shaken up to even speak. After a few minutes he said, "I love you, Sam."

Sam frowned. "You're too young to know what love is."

"I'm not _young_!" Dean hissed, swatting his hand away. "I know what love is and I really like you. You made me realize what I didn't have, and what I wanted. Guess you don't want me...

"It's not that. I think you're beautiful." Sam tilted his head and kissed Dean softly, resting his hand on Dean's nape. He knew Dean was inexperienced, which was why Sam was taking the lead.

While Dean was into the kiss, he focused his gaze on the dead body on the ground, then decided to go to another room. As he pulled away, Sam said, "Let's go to your room so we could get comfortable."

Dean licked his lips, nodded, and just as he was about to turn his head, Sam stopped him.

"Don't look, please." Dean closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, trusting Sam with all his heart. They headed to Dean's room, where he had a single bed and the windows were boarded up. Sam wondered who really was the prisoner in the house.

Sam whispered into Dean's ear, "I can feel you, Dean. Your breath hitching every second." He caressed the boy's chest from underneath his shirt, his fingertips rubbing against his nipple. Dean gasped, arching his back at the simple touch. He was real sensitive.

"S-Sam," Dean stammered, not quite looking at him, his eyes were hooded. "I n-need—"

"Shush. Let me take care of you," Sam interrupted, biting his earlobe. He gently pushed Dean onto the mattress and pushed his shirt upwards. Then he lowered his hand down Dean's pants, easily slipping inside in his underwear. "You're so smooth," he mused. Sam groped his cock, making Dean choke out a needy moan.

His thumb rubbed his head a few times, smearing the pre-come that was already leaking out. Dean's head lolled back as he shut his eyes, crying from the pleasure. Sam kept forgetting that this was Dean's first time. His first handjob.

"How does it feel?" Sam asked.

"Good. Fucking good. Nobody has ever touched me down there before," Dean confessed.

Sam figured. "And why is that?"

"B-Because I'm awkward and different. I-I used to like this girl... but she wasn't into me," he said in shaky voice. "Said I wasn't her type. I never thought nobody would ever like me." Dean started to cry as he talked about himself, losing the pleasure that was building up in him. "Am I ugly?" Sam watched the poor boy in tears as he gazed directly at him, desperately waiting for an answer. "Look at me... I'm ruining this for you," his voice broke, "nobody wants me."

It broke Sam's heart just by hearing this. "No. I think you're the most attractive boy I've ever meant." Sam moved his hand that was between in Dean's underwear so he could cup his face, wiping the tears away. "You're going to grow up into a fine looking man, Dean. Just you wait."

Sam kissed him, as if promising Dean. Assuring him.

Dean froze, then he clumsily moved his lips to match with Sam.

Sam explored Dean's mouth with his tongue, finally tasting him. Dean groaned, mouth opening for Sam; the sensation was amazing and electrifying. Sam tilted his head and began to suck on Dean's tongue.

Dean couldn't believe Sam was French-kissing him. He only heard about it from other older kids, saying that it was messy and sloppy from their girlfriends. But holy shit, Dean loved it. Sam's hand was behind his neck, pushing Dean closer so he could suck harder.

Dean got hard instantly, and his cheeks were flushing so much that his freckles weren't probably noticeable at this point. Grasping onto his shoulders, Dean reversed the kiss, putting all his emotion into it.

Sam chuckled through the kiss, amazed by Dean's sudden move. Abruptly, Sam craned his head, breaking the kiss as he concentrated on another matter. "Are you scared?" he murmured, gazing Dean's green eyes. "I can hear your pulse. It's telling me you're afraid."

Dean gulped, and hung his head in shame. "I am. But I'm not afraid of you," Dean promised. "I'm afraid of what's going to happen next."

Smiling, Sam rubbed his thumb over Dean's lips and said, "We can wait, Dean. I don't mind."

"Y-You don't?" Dean mused, not entirely believing Sam.

Sam nodded. "I don't because we're going to be together from now on."

The look on Dean's face was priceless; he was beaming for the first time. "Promise? You're not going to leave me anywhere?" his tone lingered with concern.

"Promise." And Sam meant it.


End file.
